The Chemical Brothers: Hanna soundtrack (Relativity Music Group)

The Chemical Brothers: "Hanna's Theme" (vocal version)

Back in March, The Chemical Brothers released its newest batch of music, a 20-track original score for Hanna, an action thriller that was released in April. The film told the tale of an ex-CIA operative who trains his 16-year-old daughter to exact revenge for an untold secret program, raising questions about the young protagonist's existence.

Thankfully, the soundtrack isn't the typical string-heavy fare that's so associated with thrillers. Instead, the duo crafts a score that alternates between being playful, pensive, percussive, and dark, with a nice balance between synthesized and organic (or faux-organic) sounds. It continues the cinematic flair of Further, the Bros' 2010 album that was released with corresponding video tracks, but it's an even fuller and more purposeful work.

If you missed this back in March, pick up the CD, which is out now to coincide with DVD release.

Fantômas: The Director's Cut Live: A New Year's Revolution DVD & live digital album (Ipecac)

Fantômas: "Cape Fear" live (Bernard Herrmann cover)

Ten years ago, Mike Patton's super-group Fantômas (featuring Buzz Osborne, Trevor Dunn, and Dave Lombardo) released one of its high-water marks, The Director's Cut, an avant-metal tribute to horror-film themes and other classic soundtracks. The release — a spastic and eerie collection of buzz-saw covers — paid homage to such greats as Nino Rota, Henry Mancini, Bernard Herrmann, John Barry, Angelo Badalamenti, and Ennio Morricone via works from The Godfather, Rosemary's Baby, Cape Fear, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, The Golem, The Omen, and more.

The Director's Cut Live is a recording of Fantômas' special performance at San Francisco's Great American Music Hall on New Year's Eve of 2008, when the band performed the entire album plus a few bonus songs for an encore. It's now being issued as a DVD with digital-only audio, and though it's the type of thing best suited for diehard fans, it should serve as overdue impetus for the uninitiated to get acquainted with a maniacal masterpiece — and a completely peerless musical project. Highly recommended.

Chthonic: Takasago Army (Spinefarm)

Chthonic: "Takao"

Formed in Taipei in 1997, Chthonic (pronounced “thonic”) plays symphonic black metal rooted in traditional Taiwanese music and folklore. Known to incorporate traditional instruments such as the hena (a two-string bowed fiddle, also known as the erhu in China) and base its lyrics on the mythologies of Taiwan’s history, the band is one of Taiwan’s most outspoken symbols for national independence and thought.

Takasago Army is Chthonic's sixth full-length album and is a concept piece about aboriginal Taiwanese tribesmen who volunteered in the Imperial Japanese Army after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Musically, it splashes elements of black, thrash, power, and melodic death metal with the emotional cries of the erhu and Freddy Lim's piercing shrieks and guttural screams. The symphonic moments are strategically placed, showing themselves for dramatic effect and melodic accompaniment; the result is an alternately war-like and pensive atmosphere.

- Text by Michael Nolledo and Scott Morrow.

Roc Marciano & Gangrene: Greneberg EP (Decon)

Roc Marciano & Gangrene: "Jet Luggage"

Each a rising emcee-slash-producer, Roc Marciano, The Alchemist, and Oh No joined forces earlier this year to release this six-track EP (seven with a bonus cut) and tide over listeners between albums.

Together, The Alchemist and Oh No dropped a grimy rap album with backpack appeal as Gangrene on Decon in late 2010, and Marciano (formerly a member of Flipmode Squad) issued his solo debut earlier in the year. Now, between follow-ups for each that are coming later in 2011, the three have teamed to rap on or produce each other's works.

With three tracks originally credited to each "half" of the collaboration, Greneberg is defined by raw rhymes, funky bass lines, gurling synths, and alternately minimalist and full samples of pianos, horns, and guitars. Each MC brings his own flavor but keeps it grungy, whether slurring rhymes or routinely referencing female anatomy (human or otherwise). Listeners would be better served to hear Gangrene's Gutter Water or Marciano's Marcberg as introductions, but Greneberg is a fine "sequel."

Arkona: Slovo (Napalm)

Arkona: "Slovo"

In June, Russian folk-metal outfit Arkona (not to be confused with another Russian metal band of the same name) tided over fans with the Stenka na Stenku EP, a brief blast of pagan tunes that, per the band's MO, mixed power metal with wind instruments such as bagpipes, flute, and ocarina.

Slovo is the band's sixth full-length album and follow-up to the 2009 effort Goi, Rode, Goi! It further spreads the group's reach beyond Russian folk and speed metal into more epic territory, touching orchestral movements, classical-guitar passages, power ballads, and a bit of black metal. Vocalist/keyboardist Masha "Scream" Arhipova again is a focal point, balancing harmonic clean singing with throat-shredding brutality, but her songwriting credits, as always, carry most of the weight.

Some will find the mix too corny or intense, but folk-metal fans will be blown away. Dismiss it at your own risk.

Honorable Mentions

AM & Shawn Lee: Celestial Electric (ESL)

Balmorhea: Live at Sint-Elisabethkerk (Western Vinyl)

HTRK: Work (Work, Work) (Ghostly International)

Grace Jones: Hurricane 2xCD (PIAS)

Lingouf: Doème (Ant-Zen)

MonstrO: s/t (Vagrant)

Peter Wolf Crier: Garden of Arms (Jagjaguwar)

Pregnant: Life Hard: I Try (Mush)

The Rapture: In the Grace of Your Love (DFA)

†‡† (Ritualz) vs. F8stercare (Robot Elephant)

Roberts & Lord: Eponymous (Asthmatic Kitty)

Saviours: Death’s Procession (Kemado)

Luke Temple: Don’t Act Like You Don’t Care (Western Vinyl)

WU LYF: Go Tell Fire to the Mountain (LYF)

Melvins: "The Water Glass"

Last year, sludge-rock band the Melvins released its 20th album (and third since linking up with Big Business members Jared Warren and Coady Willis). That album, entitled The Bride Screamed Murder, is emblematic of what the band has done its whole career: tweak its signature sound — part anthemic classic rock, part avant-garde heaviness — to present something entirely new yet quintessentially Melvins. That willingness to shake things up has been a major factor in the band's longevity.

After last year's release, the band undertook a tour in early 2011, playing a different album from its back catalog each night. As the saying goes, you get what you give, and in this case, the Melvins' 30-year history of experimentation has continually rewarded the band with new experiences. Dale Crover, drummer and founding member, recounts the band's some of the most memorable recent experiences below.

Endless Residency Tour
by Dale Crover

The Melvins did a residency every Friday night last January in Los Angeles. To make each show unique, we decided to play a different record from our ever-growing catalog of releases. It seemed to go over really well, and since we took the time to learn all these records, we decided to take it on the road. Here are some highlights from the "Endless Residency" tour.

Austin Texas: Austin shows are always great, except for the heat. It's 100 degrees out, and of course we're playing outside! The show goes well, but by the end, the "costume" that I'm  wearing feels like a soaking-wet sleeping bag. The next day we meet up with our friends from the band Honky to get lunch. Everyone I know that lives in Austin says that the BBQ downtown is average, and they know where the best is. We drive miles out of town to a place in Spicewood, Texas, called Opie's BBQ. We're greeted by a guy who opens a large trough with 10 different kinds of smoked meat. We let the Honky boys order for us, then sit down to stuff our faces. It was certainly worth the trip, and I highly recommend the spicy corn! After the feast, we stop by Willie Nelson's recording studio. Honky just recorded there. No Willie, but we  got the full tour, including seeing the tape vault with Red Headed Stranger master tapes! I was also highly impressed by the nine-hole golf course next door. Maybe we'll do our next record there!

Chicago: Last time we played the Double Door in Chicago, we were challenged to a Wiffle Ball home-run derby. We've been playing what we call "Hall Ball" for a few years now. The Double Door staff took notice and started their own version. Last year, we clearly won, but they wouldn't have it, so they cheated and claimed victory. Just like the 1919 Chicago Black Socks, who cheated in the World Series! I guess it runs in the family. These guys take their Wiffle Ball games seriously. Star Spangled Banner before the game, announcer/commentator — they even made Double Door Liquor uniforms this year! Unfortunately, we lost! We did end up talking them into letting Buzz [Osborne] pitch to them in the last inning. Fastball, inside: plunk! Fastball, inside: plunk! "Ooops, it got away from me!" We'll get you next year, ya bums!

Brooklyn, NY: Really? We're doing a photo shoot with Mick Rock? Wow! Iggy & the Stooges, Bowie, Queen and now Melvins! Wait a minute? This guy is a full-blown kook! We were warned that he will probably scream obscenities at us while shooting. Sure enough, "Buzz, you cunt, cunt, cunt! Suck it! Suck it! Suck it! Aaaaggghhhhh! Whew! I got off on it, I really did!" "You motherfucker, motherfucker, motherfucker!" Click, click, click. It was like a dirty version of an Austin Powers photo shoot. I was laughing my ass off the whole time! Our bassist, Jared [Warren] was visibly annoyed. "Your Hugh Grant charm isn't quite working for me." "Oh, please! Hugh Grant is a wanker!"  True, if he weren't who he was, we probably wouldn't have tolerated it. It would've been over in about two minutes. Also, we're not ones for embarrassing outdoor photo shoots. You can tell he comes from different times, obviously trying to get some kind of reaction, or whatever. I ended up really liking him. He told us that, at one time, David Bowie would do "anything, and I mean anything!!!!" People like Mick always have great stories.

Things seem to get weirder and weirder the longer we're a band, but fuck it! It beats the hell outta working at a pizza joint!

Zu: "Carbon"

As Carboniferous begins, it’s unclear as to what instruments are communicating through the speakers. A pulsing, low-toned beast hums over an adaptable backbeat, awaiting an indecipherable but universally understood high-pitched howl. By all accounts, this could be a gritty synthesizer and a warped guitar exchanging musical thoughts, but primarily, the instruments at play are the usual armaments of Italian sludge-jazz trio Zu: electric bass, baritone sax, and drums.

Previously, this decade-old group offered ornate free-jazz creations, often unrestrained from convention and always bucking pop structure. Its newest album and Ipecac debut, Carboniferous, filters Zu through a lens of alt-metal, anchored by the behemoth distorted bass riffs of bassist Massimo Pupillo and the demolishing thuds of drummer Jacopo Battaglia. Saxophonist Luca T. Mai is free to freak out atop the mountainous cadences, but his squealing leads and frenetic solos refrain from creating impenetrable walls of counterpoint.

Undoubtedly, Carboniferous is the heaviest creation of Zu’s prolific career. Through the band’s 14 releases and its members’ countless other collaborations, a maelstrom of musicality has rained upon listeners’ ears. As Zu, the three have summoned styles that include noise, math rock, punk, metal, experimental, improvisational, and no wave, and other projects have stretched into hip hop, traditional Roman murder ballads, and radically revised Beatles songs.

Carboniferous is heavier than all of it. For the first time, Battaglia’s kick drum plays a higher pitch than the bass. Everything other than drums is distorted, including the master recording of the album’s first two tracks, “Ostia” and “Chthonian.” And even the drums get distorted for Zu’s punishing live performance, one that has included the effected vocals and samples of luminous singer Mike Patton.

As one might imagine, finding the proper pedals is imperative to this massive sound, and thankfully, the band has a friend in Milan who runs a music shop with homemade pedals from all over the world.

“It’s difficult to find good stuff, especially for the bass, because you lose a lot of attack and bass frequencies with the commercial crap,” Pupillo says. “It’s good to find something that you can use, is powerful, and keeps the low end of the instrument.”
 

“Looking at our discography, it’s really one road that brings us to this record — every time getting a little bit closer to the center of what you want to say."

Indeed, Pupillo’s bass is never lost in a wash of fuzz. His instrument, tuned down to a low B, anchors the album with math grooves and powerfully low tones. And to solve the acoustic problems of losing the baritone sax in the bass frequencies, Mai performs with a multi-effect bass pedal that Pupillo says is perfect for the saxophone. This bends the saxophone’s tone nearly to one of an echo-effected guitar, making it difficult at times to discern the sax from the few spots of guest guitar on Carboniferous (the Melvins’ Buzz Osborne appears on “Chthonian”). When everything is combined, it seems that Zu has arrived at a stark new sonic destination. The band, however, feels that its path to this point was instinctive.

“Looking at our discography,” Pupillo says, “it’s really one road that brings us to this record — every time getting a little bit closer to the center of what you want to say. For us, it takes a lot of time; it’s really digesting a lot of ideas and influences. It’s very organic. It’s not something like post-modern composition, where you say, ‘Okay, let’s play one bar country, two bars hardcore, and one bar contemporary.’"

When asked about the world’s shrinking musical boundaries, Pupillo agrees that the Internet has had a vast impact, acting as a catalyst for cultural fusion, and he credits it for turning Zu’s members onto other great groups from around the globe.

“We are so omnivorous,” he says. “I think that a lot of people today are not listening to one kind of music anymore. It’s really hard to find somebody who only listens to metal, punk, ethnic music, or whatever is out there. There are so many great things. You get inspired by so many things that you hear or see, and in some way, you don’t want to cut that from you.”

And for as much ground as Zu has covered in its discography, its members join forces elsewhere for different sounds. A full-length collaboration with noisy hip-hop duo Dälek is in the works; the aforementioned Roman murder ballads were recorded for two Ardecore albums with Karate’s Geoff Farina; a project called Black Engine found Zu with electro-experimental guitarist Eraldo Bernocchi; a collaboration called Garden of Evil, whose album is due this year, will have Zu’s rendering of works by composer Bernard Herrmann.

Zu’s members also spend down time — what little they have outside of the band’s immense touring schedule — playing improvisational jazz gigs, often with members of Chicago’s thriving jazz scene. But for their innumerable collaborations, none may be more exciting than that with Patton. After a handful of performances with Zu, the incomparable vocalist recorded vocals for “Soulympics” and “Orc,” two of the ten outstanding tracks on Carboniferous.

Patton’s contributions on “Orc,” the album’s dark, final track, are wordless but ominous, appearing as throat singing and voice manipulation that sounds like a Tibetan singing bowl. On “Soulympics,” Patton builds steam with deep pitches and whispers before erupting in screeches akin to those that he uses in “Cuckoo for Caca” by Faith No More. A harmonized call of “Superman” then dances with a distant, high-pitched, reverberated overdub, leaving “Soulympics” as, arguably, the album’s best offering.

The tracks without Patton, however, are no less impressive. “Carbon” is built around an infectious count-chant rhythm, interspersing one-beat rests and a two-beat sustain as the group “counts” to six, pounding listeners with relentless force. The song wails with a swirling harmony, created as Mai’s sax reaches a virtual crescendo. “Chthonian,” the preceding track, features Pupillo playing distorted natural harmonics as Battaglia joins to create a polymeter. The song gets extraordinarily heavy while retaining two independent rhythms, lurching between ambience and fury before Osborne’s presence is felt in a wild outro.

Following what should be a laudatory response to Carboniferous, the trio will return to the US in August to travel through the East Coast and to Chicago; in October, the group will again be stateside to tour the West Coast with influential punk/jazz trio NOmeansno. That’s part of a nonstop international itinerary for a group that was in the US just last November.

“All the people who try to live off the music are in the same situation,” Pupillo says. “You do it and it’s great, but at the same time, it takes your whole life. You don’t have any spare moments anymore.”

The band’s latest, The Bride Screamed Murder, features more of the weird, dirty grit and experimentation that has come to typify the 25-year-old outfit, but this time around, it comes with a marching chant, whistling, a cappela harmonies, and a take on The Who's "My Generation."

Singer / guitarist / resident weirdo Buzz Osborne recently answered a few queries about the band and the new album, which came out earlier this month on Ipecac.

How is this album different from your last one, Nude with Boots? What was the recording process like? After 25 years or so together, do things get any easier or is it even harder?

Different? Who knows. I like both records and think they are some of our best stuff ever. I know everyone always says that, but for once, I'm not telling a bullshit story. Well, maybe sort of a bullshit story.

Believe it or not, that’s kind of a hard question, and I wish you had asked me something different, but I don't always get what I want. It's not that it’s a bad question; it’s just a little difficult for me to answer.

Things were never easy in the songwriting or recording process, and I spend a large amount of time just thinking about what sort of stuff I want to do with the Melvins. We had a good time recording it, though, and we worked at a steady pace for most of the tracking and mixing.

How does having Jared and Coady (of Big Business) in the band change the Melvins' sound? Jared has said he really likes the way his bass sounds on this record. I notice that it is farther up in the mix than what I've noticed on past Melvins records. Was this a conscious decision?

Jared and Coady are good players, so that part is easy. We let the sound develop with them instead of trying to make them bend to our will. I tend to think that this makes the music better. Jared is happy with his bass sound on this one? Well, that's good to know.

As for us intentionally mixing his bass louder for this record…that would be a no. We mixed it how we thought best.

The material on The Bride Screamed Murder seems a bit more “friendly” than most other Melvins records. Do you agree with that? If so, are you hoping to maybe draw in people who wouldn't normally be interested in such a style of weird heavy-metal music?

I suppose it's more friendly sounding, but who knows? Imagine it on the iPod of a typical young music fan and compare it to what they normally listen to…and I think you might see it as nothing that will attract too many normies into our musical realm. I've always thought our stuff should sell tens of millions of records, and it was the general public who disagreed. So be it.

Both groups normally share Melvins guitarist Buzz "King Buzzo" Osborne as a member, and the release should come as no surprise as both are friends, both are released on singer Mike Patton's Ipecac label, and both were involved in a 2002 collaborative CD.

The low production quality of the concert film makes for a more realistic and intimate experience. Filmed at the Kentish Town Forum in London on May 1st of 2006, the film is almost exclusively comprised of the beguiling concert, thus giving fans the feeling of being in attendance in this unique concert setting.

The most interesting aspect of the film is watching as the band members play off of each other from song to song. The group's performance of "The Omen" is particularly enthralling as the filmmakers let go of their traditional concert film aesthetics that have driven the film so far to create an enthralling visual experience of spliced shots, jump cuts, and close-ups of the big band as it constructs the layers to the song.

Once you're done watching the film in its entirety, don't forget to take time to watch it with the "special guest commentary" with none other than Danny Devito (yeah, that's right) adding his two cents.

- Britt Julious

Fantômas: www.ipecac.com/artists/fantomas
Melvins: www.melvins.com
Ipecac Recordings: www.ipecac.com

"We're ugly, weird-looking guys. Cobain had that wounded junkie look, which, for some unknown reason, women and MTV think is really cool. All those guys do. Bowie. Jagger. Skinny, wounded junkie look. We were too weird, too big. If Kurt Cobain had been the size of Rose Greer, and the same color, nobody would have given a shit."

So the Melvins—who don’t look much like either Cobain or Greer, but who are, true enough, unlikely poster boys—have traveled rock’s other road, flirting occasionally with wider recognition, pulling briefly into the peripheral limelight of Cobain’s stardom and flameout, playing to small but fervent crowds, and touring Econo, to borrow their spiritual brother Mike Watt’s phrase.

“When you decide that you’re going to do this, and you know that the powers that be—MTV, TV in general, or radio—are not going to be there for you, you have figure out plan B,” Buzz says, adding as he laughs, “whatever that is.” The Melvins earn their rent on tour, gain their popularity by word of mouth, and live a more common but no less appreciated version of the rock and roll dream. And they have survived. They are, if we insist on setting them up in opposition to the Men Who Made Aberdeen Famous, the tortoise to Nirvana’s strung-out and deeply conflicted hare. They were around before Nirvana—Cobain in fact was a big fan and an occasional roadie—and they’re still here, long after Nirvana has gone.

“Guys I talk to say, ‘Aren’t you tired of doing the rock thing? Don’t you ever want to do something else?’” says Buzz. “Well, no. And do what? A&R? No thanks. I’ll keep going.”

When the dust settles, as it rarely does for the Melvins, they come into focus as a duo: drummer Dale Crover and Buzz have become the steady core of the band, anchoring the weirdness since Dale joined in the mid-eighties. Songwriting falls almost exclusively to Buzz, but Dale has enjoyed, over the years, critical praise bordering on worship for his drumming—his “astonishing,” “daring,” “pick your positive adjective” drumming.

"We're ugly, weird-looking guys. Cobain had that wounded junkie look, which, for some unknown reason, women and MTV think is really cool. All those guys do. Bowie. Jagger. Skinny, wounded junkie look. We were too weird, too big. If Kurt Cobain had been the size of Rose Greer, and the same color, nobody would have given a shit."

They’re no-nonsense guys; they’ve been around the block and around the world; they’ve played your town. They like playing the Birminghams and the Pocatellos of the circuit. “No one plays those places, so when you come to town, the people get so hyped,” says Dale. “Things get weird.”

They’re from the grassroots side of rock: don’t ask for handouts, don’t whine, and don’t sell out. Buzz can sound almost libertarian, showing his roots as an old-school, get-in-the-van artist. “Socialism is fascism,” he says. “Somebody’s taking your money and giving it to someone else. You would never stand for that in any other area of your life. I’m not into it. I’m into true liberalism, which means you mind your own goddamn business; you take care of yourself.” (It occurs to me at this point that my father might really like Buzz Osborne.) There’s a pragmatism that shows through in most of their opinions. “The internet downloading—people need to get over it,” says Buzz. “Is it stealing? Sure, yeah—but it doesn’t matter. It’s over. Things have changed. We have to move on.”

When something comes their way—like a recording contract from Atlantic during the who’s-the-next-Nirvana sweepstakes of 1991/1992—they’ll grab hold and enjoy, but they won’t forget who they are. “That was a great contract,” says Buzz. “I’d sign that contract again today.” Atlantic didn’t seem to know quite what they had on their hands. They didn’t try to force anything out of the Melvins that was against their nature, but they seemed baffled by what they received—the albums Houdini, Stoner Witch, and Stag—and they refused to release one of the Melvins’ more idiosyncratic offerings, Prick. (Prick was released on Amphetamine Reptile.) All of the Melvins’ suggestions for marketing were ignored. “You can’t market us like you would the Foo Fighters—it won’t work,” says Dale. “We had plenty of ideas, but…”

Still, they remain skeptical of artists that blame too much on major labels. “Bands talk about their labels making them sell out. No, they didn’t,” says Buzz. “Nobody made you do anything. Nobody had a gun to your head. You wanted to be a big rock star. That’s what you wanted.” Dale adds, “Even the Nirvana guys, with their ‘corporate rock sucks’ T-shirts—they wanted to sell millions of records, no doubt about it.”

Questions of ‘selling out’ have long since moved into irrelevance for the Melvins; they’re not at all conflicted. They’re in the game, but they make their own music. Fans scratched their heads over their willingness to design a pair of Nikes, but why? “If somebody wants to take what we’re doing and apply it to Nike, I’m all over it! Like, Coca-Cola – if they want to use one of our songs, you better believe it! Absolutely! We’re the right people to be involved in all those things!” says Buzz.

(On first glance, it does seem an unlikely collaboration: Nike usually picks the clear winners, those with measurable achievements, and the Melvins seem more Earl ‘The Goat’ Manigault than Michael Jordan. That particular comparison falters in a crucial way, though: there’s nothing tragic, self-defeating, or sloppy about the Melvins. In the music industry, the story is often backwards. The tragic ones hit the limelight, sell millions, and die, and the workers keep working. It’s one of the only arenas where self-destructive tendencies build your resume; they make a killer promo-sheet back-story. Your music is fantastic but you’re responsible? And…kind of lumpy-looking? Hmmm. Who’s your blonde friend there with the needle hanging out of his arm? We like him.)

So, armed with a healthy sense of humor, a sharp business sense, and a tremendous work ethic, the Melvins have soldiered on. Are they radio-friendly? Well, not so much early on; they had nothing like those “More than A Feeling”/“Smells Like Teen Spirit” hooks. (Note: that’s the same hook. There s nothing wrong with stealing ideas, and Cobain himself admitted it was a clichéd riff, but still Boston? How cool can Nirvana ever be when you hear the traces of Boston so clearly in their huge hit?)

What the Melvins had was the basic framework for grunge/sludge: slow metal. “They were the first band I saw with space in their songs,” says longtime fan and current member Coady Willis. “They were weird and diabolical. It was just much more badass than a million notes a minute.” In the simplest sense, that’s what the Melvins have meant to popular music: they gargled back some Black Sabbath and spit out a series of riff-heavy albums and shows to appreciative fans in (of course) flannel shirts. Eventually (let’s not give them sole credit) grunge happened, and the ultimate consequence, in a roundabout way, might be that you’re drinking Starbucks coffee while you read this.

What they’re famous for, aside from their Nirvana connections and their sludge-hammer sound, is a bizarre sense of humor and a willingness to experiment that has been, probably, their biggest impediment to wider commercial success. They have gone so far out at times—with albums like the goofy pastiche of Prick or the wall of noise on The Colossus of Destiny—that they’ve been accused of intentionally alienating audiences, which they deny. But it’s true that just about every Melvins album has something you definitely want to hear and something that you could most likely live without. They’ve always been a touch too difficult—too much sand in the Vaseline—to write what their fans feel is their due, always puncturing their virtuoso musicianship with outright oddness to no discernible purpose. And so they’ve been labeled perverse. But they’ve also never burned out, shot themselves, or stagnated and faded away. So who’s perverse? And as for intentionally alienating, Buzz says, “No, that means they really don’t have any idea what we do then. No concept. You make music out of the influences you have, whatever they may be. If people don’t think that’s what we’re doing, they’re missing the boat.”
They’ve shed yet another bass player (Kevin Rutmanis), “for a wide variety of reasons, none of which are very complimentary,” says Buzz. “The usual rock and roll shit,” adds Dale. To fill that slot, because nothing about the Melvins is simple or predictable, they brought in an entire second band, melding with rhythm duo Big Business to become a double-drum, bass, and lead guitar four-piece. Their first product in this form, 2006’s (A) Senile Animal, was a truly unusual thing: a late career critical success.

“Everyone always says, ‘It’s our best album yet’—but I think it is,” says Buzz. In this case, the band is not alone; the general word on (A) Senile Animal was positive, with re-birth, resurgence, and revitalization being the words of the day. The collaboration has been viewed as a bizarre triumph—bizarre because it’s a doubledrum (and sometimes double-vocal) attack and triumphant because it works and is great fun. “And I like [our new] one even better. It’s weirder,” says Buzz, speaking of their upcoming release, Nude with Boots.

What they have on the new record, that often is forgotten amidst their shuffling lineups, their irreverent attitude, and their experimentation, is rock: fun, loud, skillful rock. Nude with Boots (after enough exposure to the Melvins, you don’t even blink at the title) is not simple, but it is easy to like. It doesn’t sound like classic rock, but it has riffs—real, immediate, long hair, Wayne’s World riffs—that do sound classic. And they’re not wasting those double-drums; they’re clearly enjoying having them in the arsenal.

The Melvins get the words “challenging” and “experimental” thrown at them more often than anyone since Matthew Barney, so it’s a quick jolt to hear the opening notes of “The Kicking Machine” and have it feel more like head nodding than brow furrowing. They may not land that Coca-Cola endorsement, but it’s easy to imagine a track like “The Smiling Cobra” finding its way onto a Fast and the Furious Pt. 8 soundtrack. But don’t take my word for it. Take theirs: “Our records are great. They’re better than most. Most bands don’t make records that are anywhere near as good as ours. That’s what I think or I wouldn’t be doing it. They’re all top notch, A-number-one—all American cool groovy. The kids should love it. It should be required listening…for the whole world.”

"Our records are great…They're all top-notch, A-number one, all-American cool, groovy. The kids should love it. It should be required listening…for the whole world."

The world is coming around. With the passage of time, their Atlantic-era albums, in particular Houdini, have gained recognition as underrated classics of the grunge era. Most casual fans know the Melvins for one of these three records, which are only a tiny slice of their wide-ranging, ever-growing oeuvre. The sheer number of albums at this point is impressive (16? 17? Plus a coffee-table book!) Steady output is something they value: Buzz, a self-professed film geek, admires directors who were not only good but could keep cranking it out: “Fassbinder, what did he make? Forty films? And before he turned forty? That’s impressive. I’ve never had writer’s block; I’ve never understood the idea that people can’t come up with stuff. There’s usually something else going on. They’re lazy, or they’re drinking vodka and doing blow. One of those two things usually stands in the way. I mean, Jesus Christ, if John Huston pushing seventy can make a goddamn movie in a wheelchair with a breathing machine, then I can make a goddamn record at forty. It’s not that hard,” he laughs.

The Melvins have morphed themselves gradually, finally, album by album, from trivia tidbit to granddaddies of rock history. Maybe. Or maybe what they’ve done is less grandiose; they’ve just kept working. “People say, ‘How is it possible after all these years that you’re making such good music?’ I don’t know,” shrugs Buzz. “I still give a shit.” The truth is that when a band/artist has held this position for this long—name-checked by others but rarely the story themselves—we want them to succeed. We want Hasil Adkins, Jonathan Richman, and the Melvins to emerge triumphant from a long, dark time of obscurity. They eventually graduate from any suspicions of ‘sell-out,’ and we just want a little recognition for the work. We want them to join forces with a band like Big Business and release two of the best albums of their career, and then we want people to pay attention. But the lesson the band has for us is always the same zen knowledge from their side of the stage: they’re in it for the music. The rest is silliness.

- Tom Vale